


Four times Maggie Scully’s prayers were answered and one time they weren’t

by Frangipanidownunder



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 04:41:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10712400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frangipanidownunder/pseuds/Frangipanidownunder
Summary: Written for the Tumblr Fic You’d Never Write challenge. I’ve pretty much covered comedy, drama, family, sick, smut, angst, casefile and au in my stories so it was tricky to think of a new angle. I couldn’t bring myself to write another pairing, so I settled on another POV: Maggie Scully.





	Four times Maggie Scully’s prayers were answered and one time they weren’t

1 Lost and found  
She watched Fox as he walked around the apartment. She knew Dana thought highly of him, had come to trust in him. But she had also spoken of his impetuosity, the disregard he displayed for his own safety, his unwavering belief in the hopeless, the inexplicable and the outlandish. Dana told her that oftentimes during a case he was driven to point of closing his mind to logic, order or direct command. And for that, today, now, Maggie Scully was grateful. He barked orders at the techs, he spoke with authority to whoever he was conversing with on his cellphone, he regarded each blood stain, each hair, each upended object in Dana’s apartment with a deep consideration that made her believe in the hopeless – that Dana would come home. Safe.  
‘Mrs Scully – why don’t I get one of the officers to drive you home. You should try to get some sleep.’  
She shook her head and looked at the fern that draped over the top of the cupboard in Dana’s living room. Bright green, well-cared for. Full of life. ‘I wouldn’t sleep, but I do feel like I’m in the way here.’  
Fox nodded and offered her a half smile of sympathy. She saw a depth of understanding in his eyes. She saw how his losing Dana cut him – they had shared so much in just a year or so. She saw respect and fear too. But above all she saw tenacity.  
‘I can drive you, if you prefer.’  
‘I wouldn’t want to take you away from here.’  
He chuffed out a bitter laugh. ‘Perhaps I’m better off staying. There’s lots to be done still.’  
‘I’ll be praying.’  
He put his hand on hers. ‘I will find her. I’ll do everything I can to find her.’  
‘I know,’ she said. And she did.  
2 Doubt and Trust  
Dana rushed past her, taking the stairs two at a time and slammed the door of her room. The rafters shook and Maggie looked out the window at the garden, marvelling at how well it had survived the cooler months. As she waited downstairs, she could hear Dana opening drawers and shutting them. She heard her crying out and talking to herself, wild words, incomprehensible ranting. Maggie waited until it fell silent. She learned early on as a parent, that the trouble was always to be found in the silence.  
Dana had been an introspective child, the quietest. Missy was all drama and theatrics, Bill was full of his own self-importance and blustering righteousness, Charlie was a noisy terrier desperate to keep up with the older ones. But Dana was always observing. And when she did break down there was always a damned good reason. Maggie knew her daughter felt so deeply, tried so hard to work out how to live in harmony with a world full of pain and injustice that it sometimes became impossible to be the stoic one, to not be worn down.  
And whatever had worn her down now was frightening in its ferocity. This had not been a slow chipping away; this had been a searing, burning explosion.  
Maggie trod carefully, holding the banister, weighing up whether to call Fox first or wait for him to come. He would come. Of that, she was certain. She knocked, lightly at first, then with more force. She rattled the door against its lock.  
‘Dana, honey. Let me in. Please.’  
Silence.  
‘Dana, I want to help you, but you have to open the door.’  
Nothing.  
‘I have the key, Dana. I’m going to open the door anyway. It will be much better if you open it yourself. I just want to see that you’re okay, that’s all.’  
When Dana pulled back the door, Maggie tried to contain her rising fear. She was still fully dressed but rumpled, her hair tangled, her eyes red-rimmed and wide with terror. She was wringing her fingers, pacing.  
‘It’s all been a lie, mom. All of it.’  
‘I’m sure that’s not true, Dana.’  
‘It is,’ she said, wiping spittle from her chin. ‘I’ve been so stupid. So stupid. How could I not have seen it?’  
Maggie moved forward, holding her arms out towards Dana. ‘Why don’t you come downstairs with me? I’ve made tea. You’ll feel better if you drink something, sit down.’ She brushed the sides of Dana’s arms, just a light touch, but one that sent her daughter skittling backwards as though her fingers were electrically charged.  
The rapping at the front door was the tipping point. Dana sunk to her knees, clutching her hands against her ears. When the knocking came again, louder, more insistent, Dana jolted upright and shoved Maggie out of the door. ‘Don’t answer it. It’s them. They can’t come in. If you answer it, they’ll kill me.’ She shut the door.  
The walk down the stairs was terrifying. The fear that Dana would hurt herself if she answered the door weighted against the fear that she would hurt herself if she didn’t. Before she even pulled it open, she knew it was Fox and that she wouldn’t be able to stop him. She recognised the look in his eyes. The depth of understanding. Respect and fear. And the tenacity.  
And the moment Dana collapsed in tears she saw the love too.  
That night she prayed for her daughter. And she prayed for Fox. And she prayed they could move past this event to regain their mutual trust. The trust they needed more than her prayers.  
3 Strength and Weakness  
Dana’s skin was so pale and with her gaunt face, she looked haunted. Maggie knew she was stubbornly refusing to be as terrified as everyone else. Maggie sat in the chair most nights and read to her. She slept fitfully, twisting the sheets and mumbling about Mulder. Whatever had happened since he reappeared, Maggie felt sure that her daughter would rest easier if Fox spent a little more time with her. The chip that Fox had offered up as a cure was a mystery that Bill refused to give any credence to, but Maggie knew her daughter, and if Dana trusted Fox with her future, then the least she could do as her mother was to wait and read and hope.  
Dana stirred, turning her face to the window as her eyes fluttered open. She smiled at Maggie. Maggie squeezed her hand and offered her a cup of water. Dana hoisted herself up and sat against the starched pillows.  
“Has Mulder been in?”  
“He called by earlier, but didn’t stay. Can you manage something to eat? A little jello? Bill stopped by too. He says to say hi.”  
“I think he chooses to stop in when Mulder’s here so he can look like he cares more.”  
Maggie clucked. “I think that’s a little unkind, Dana.” She gave Dana a spoon and a bowl of orange jello.  
“It’s true. His presence here intimidates Mulder.”  
“Fox is a grown man. An FBI agent. He carries a gun. Your brother shouldn’t intimidate him.”  
Dana swallowed a mouthful of jello and smiled. “Mulder’s vulnerable at the moment. He’s had his beliefs tested. He has had to re-examine his entire purpose, his quest for the truth, his job,” she paused and took another spoonful. “This illness. His passion is both his strength and his weakness. He’s been shattered by recent events.”  
Dana lay her head back against the pillow.  
“You can’t use all your strength worrying about Fox.”  
“Who else will, mom?”  
She was asleep within minutes. Mulder knocked gently and slid into the room, taking the seat on the other side of the bed. Maggie put the book on the side table and whispered to him that she was going to find a cup of tea. He stood up as she left, closing the door behind her. She waited a moment outside. Watched as he lifted the chair closer to Dana’s side. Placed his hand over Dana’s.  
Maggie stopped on her way to the canteen, visiting the quiet room. She contemplated the landscape on the wall, a forest scene with towering trees that stretched their leaf-laden limbs to a deep blue sky. She closed her eyes and gathered her strength, praying for Dana.  
And for Fox.  
4 Forward and Backward  
It was sometimes difficult to understand just what the FBI wanted. They took so much and gave nothing back. All Maggie wanted for her daughter was peace, dignity. She’d buried Fox. She’d witnessed the miracle of his resurrection. They had a child only to be forced to give William away. And then the trial. Charges that carried the death penalty. The break out. And years of forced isolation. And now this.  
The driveway was long and rutted. The house always seemed like it had been stuck on the block with no care. And now it just looked disheveled and sorry as they drove away.  
“I’m sorry you had to come get me, mom.”  
“I wish you’d tell me what’s going on, Dana.”  
Her daughter leant her head against the window and didn’t speak for hours.  
Those first few days, Fox left 86 messages on the answerphone. Dana switched off her cell. Maggie threw away sandwiches, crackers, fruit and a put servings of pot roast, meatloaf and lasagne back in the fridge. She boiled the kettle more times than she could count and listened to Dana sob herself to sleep.  
“I can’t go back.”  
These were the first words Dana spoke.  
“Why not?”  
“I hurt him more when I’m there.”  
Maggie shook her head. “I know you two. You need each other.”  
Tears streaked Dana’s face. “We did. We do. More than is healthy. We take steps forward and then we run backward. That’s been the pattern of our lives.”  
“You’ll find a way through. I’ll help you.”  
Dana sobbed, laying her head on her arms across the table. “Prayers can’t fix this, mom.”  
Maggie prayed anyway. And the FBI finally stopped taking.  
5 Answers and Questions  
The sounds came and went, along with the light. The sounds fell away. The light blinded her then receded. She took comfort in the feel of someone holding her hand but sometimes, when she woke up, her hands were folded across her abdomen and all she had left was the ghost of a touch.  
It was dark. It was bright. It was silent. It was chaos. She was comforted. She was frightened.  
She could hear his voice. Charlie. Love swelled in her heart, her veins. She couldn’t hear because love was pulsing through her, rushing in her ears and keeping her eyes pressed shut. She’d prayed for Charlie’s return to the fold, to her breast. He’d come home.  
She willed her eyes to open. She saw Fox. And Dana.  
“My son is named William too,” she said.  
One last prayer. Just one.


End file.
